All that is Gold
by arianapeterson19
Summary: The problem with Aster was that at the end of the day, he only loved coffee and like two people, and he wasn't even convinced about a third of that claim. "If I call you darling, will you make me pancakes?" he asked, eyes twinkling over the rim of his favorite blue coffee mug. Formerly "All that is Gold", edited up and with the final chapter ready to go!
1. Bus Stop

Jack was never meant to be in Aster Bunnymund's life for more than a moment or two and neither was ever supposed to impact the other. Somewhere, all outside plans got lost and shattered, setting the entire world on a new course and against all odds, it wasn't Jack's fault for once.

It was not even raining that day, it had not rained for weeks and the sky had no plans of allowing that fact to change. That did not stop him from dawning his sunshine yellow raincoat, a stolen item that the original owner wouldn't have the chance to miss, and prancing out to meet the world. He could have chosen a one of his cleanly pressed shirts and tailored slacks just as easily as he could have brushed his hair before leaving the bathroom, but he blatantly chose to forgo both of those things and no one was around to stop him-not that they could have anyway.

Aster Bunnymund was sitting at the bus stop, grumbling under his breath about the sun, the lack of rain, his broken car, and every other topic that he could think of that could be wrong with the world, which was an endless list. For him, complaining could have been a spectator sport and he would hold all the records. The bus was late again and he wanted to get on his way. Scanning the barren road, he did not notice the boy in the yellow raincoat approach the bus stop until he was sharing his bench.

Smiling, the young man swung his feet in a childlike fashion, enjoying the way his beat up black converse peaked out from under his loose dark wash jean pants. The bus could not arrive fast enough as Aster looked pointedly away from his new neighbor. This was not someone he wished to be associated with, but then again, no one who rode the bus was someone he wished to be seen with. Only strange people rode the bus, clearly demonstrated by this boy who didn't have the sense to dress in a socially acceptable manner.

The bus finally rolled into view, and that is where the man and the boy in the yellow raincoat should have parted ways forever. However, the boy in the yellow raincoat couldn't resist one parting shot, his voice youthful and twinkling with something like mischief, if voices could twinkle at all.

"The world is not all doom and gloom, Aster."

"How the hell do you know my name?" demanded the man, glaring at the boy in shock.

"Lucky guess," shrugged the boy, his slim shoulders causing the yellow material to crinkle in the sunlight, refraining from mentioning that the corner of a paper sticking out of the man's brief case said his name on it. "You look like an Aster. Well, that's a bit of a lie. You look more like a Kangaroo, sitting there all stiff and grumpy-those little beasts are mean- but you get the point."

With that, he jumped off the bench and hopped up the bus steps lightly, looking for all the world like a strong wind would carry him away, waving to the driver before taking a seat several rows back. Aster stormed after him, enforcing the change life was taking by grabbing the seat next to him while he continued to question his source of information.

"What do you mean I look like an Aster?" he persisted. "You can't just walk up to people and call them whatever you feel like. People have names for a reason, you know! And what if my name hadn't been Aster? You would have looked pretty stupid then, wouldn't you?"

"You know," said the boy in the yellow raincoat mildly, an easy grin revealing unearthly white teeth. "Life isn't all about what you look like."

"That's all you have to say?"

"No, I have plenty to say, but you seem rather intent on continuing your lecture, so I thought I would let you."

"Yes, well, good!" stuttered Aster, flustered by his response. "Because I'm not done! You are the strangest person I have ever met! Why are you wearing a raincoat when it hasn't rained in weeks and it's not even cloudy out?"

"I like this jacket," shrugged the boy. "It's a fun color. Don't get me wrong, it's no blue, but it works."

"It's a raincoat and it's not raining!"

"Well spotted!" laughed the boy. "This has been fun, but unfortunately, this is my stop, so I shall leave you to your own little doom and gloomy musings. Have a nice day, and remember what I told you."

He scooted past him and made his way to the door as the bus screeched to a stop, swaying with the movements with a grace that could not have been natural.

"Wait!" shouted Aster suddenly. "What's your name?"

He turned back and smiled at him. "It doesn't matter, does it? I'm just some boy in a yellow raincoat."

With that, he slipped off the bus and crossed the sidewalk to a coffee shop where he disappeared. The bus pulled away as Aster stared out the window to the place where the boy had vanished from sight. He was so lost in his own world that it took a moment before he heard the driver yelling at him.

"Buddy!" yelled the driver for a third time.

"What?" snapped Aster, blinking off his haze of thoughts.

"The kid with the yellow raincoat," said the driver in his rough voice. "He rides the bus every Tuesday. Nice boy, he is, but strange. I would watch out for him if I was you. Ain't this your stop?"

"What? Oh, yes, it is."

Aster got off without another word and walked to his office building. Two stops ago, the boy with the yellow raincoat had gotten off the bus and disappeared into one of the many coffee shops littering the city. Assuming that his car was repaired by the end of the week like those idiots working on it swore it would be (but they also swore is would be done in an hour, so Aster wasn't holding his breath), he would never see the boy again, nor did he want to. That boy was different and it was uncanny, the way he had guessed his name and commented on his near silent ramblings. The way those eyes pierced his, it had been as if they were seeing into his soul while he drowned in his sky blue eyes. The bus driver was right, he would watch out for him.

Boys in yellow raincoats were not of interest to men who argued for a living.

***Hey! I sort of deleted this story and thought 'Well, may as well take advantage of being stupid and accidentally deleting a story and edit it up!'. So that's what this is, all edited and stuff and this time I swear, I'll post everything! Always-Ari**


	2. Not like Everyone Else

That day, like countless before, sped by in a blur of phone calls and pointless interruptions from mundane paperwork. Aster was incredibly busy-which was how he liked it- being a lawyer meant paperwork all of the time, and by the time he was walking to catch the bus home, he had forgotten all about the boy in the yellow raincoat. It was getting dark quickly and the streets were beginning to transform into a dangerous place. Aster was not worried, he did not stand out, he was not different, and for blending in, he was granted instant immunity. Briefly, he wondered what women felt like, walking down the street at night, having to be aware of their surroundings constantly because every single person could be a threat and they were the target.

"No!" echoed a cry from a side alley. "Leave me alone!"

"Shut up!" hissed another, rougher voice.

Aster paused, squinting into the gathering dusk, attempting to see what was going on further down the alley. It was the first voice that had made him stop; it was eerily familiar yet he could not place it, like it was a voice from a dream or a dream of a dream. Then he spotted the yellow raincoat, gleaming like a beacon in the dark, but only when it caught the street lamp glow.

The boy in the yellow raincoat had his back to a wall and was surrounded by three large men. The men dwarfed him, making him appear more childlike and helpless than his twenty some years should appear.

"Go away!" yelled the boy, his blue luminous eyes darting from one face to another, scanning for the weakest link and hopefully an escape.

"Don't be like that, handsome," cooed the middle man, advancing on him. "You're always such a tease, walking around with that firm young body."

"No!"

The man closest to Aster snatched at the yellow sleeve as the boy landed a punch solidly on the middle attacker's nose.

With no other thought, Aster found himself propelled into the alley as if by some outside force, ramming into the man closest to the boy. The rest happened too quickly for either one of them to grasp it and it became apparent that the only way to end it was to get back onto the street and into the public. Aster found the boy in the yellow raincoat's hand and dragged him to the alley entrance. They stumbled into the street and took off running, stopping only when they were several blocks away and safely on a bus.

"You're bleeding," said the boy after a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a soft white handkerchief.

With shockingly gentle hands, hands that felt as soft as they looked, he wiped away most of the blood on Aster's face before dabbing at the gash above his thick left eyebrow. Aster flinched and snatched the stained cloth out of his thin hand, applying pressure on his own.

"What the hell were you doing in an alley with those guys?" demanded Aster.

The boy jumped at the harshness of his voice. His blue eyes went wide with something akin to panic but his face was calm and composed. He said nothing, just stared back at the man who had helped him out of a less than pleasant predicament.

"I'm sorry," said Aster, relenting after a moment with a sigh, sitting back into the public seat. The rough material that did nothing to cushion the industrial plastic made Aster acutely aware of all of the germs crawling on the bus, reproducing every seventeen minutes. "Are you alright?"

The boy in the yellow raincoat nodded and then looked away.

"Thank you," he muttered. "It's my own fault, I know better than to wear flamboyant clothes."

"Um, yeah, sure, look, are you sure you are alright?"

The boy nodded, still not looking him in the eye.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Pembrooke Nathaniel Overland Frost," said the boy in the yellow raincoat with an easy smirk that hinted of one who knew he sounded ridiculous. "But most people just call me Jack."

"Jack?" repeated Aster, uncertainty obvious in his voice. "How did anyone get Jack out of all of that?"

"My mother did not want me to have a common name so that when I was growing up I wouldn't be one of several. Pembrooke Nathanial Overland Frost is quite a mouthful and my grandmother used to call me Jack of all Trades because I was always so busy trying new things. Jack stuck."

"Jack," said Aster slowly, as if trying it out to see how it fit. "What happened tonight?"

"I was walking to the bus stop," said Jack quietly, long fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt like a nervous tick. "I had been at the post office, which took way longer than it should have because it's the post office. So it was later than I intended when I left, which is fine, it just meant I couldn't go get coffee, but I'm getting off topic. And then these guys came up to me, talking and walking around me. That's not unusual, most people walk past me as if I'm not there. Anyway, they herded me into the alley before anyone could notice. I don't know exactly what they were planning on doing, and I'm glad I didn't find out. Thank you, Aster, for everything you've done tonight. You didn't have to stop. Why did you?"

"What? How could I not? What type of person would I be if I just walked by, looked the other way?"

"You would have been just like everyone else."

"Well…"

The bus drove on, stopping to lighten its load every so often. Aster kept throwing concerned looks at Jack, who was shivering slightly next to him. Aside from that, the boy showed no signs of the stress of the evening and at the last stop, the stop where they had met that morning, he hopped off in much the same fashion that he had boarded the bus so many hours before. Turning, he smiled up at Aster.

"This is where we part ways, my fine sir," said Jack with a silly little bow. "Thank you, again, for all your help."

"Where do you live?" asked Aster, longing to keep the conversation going for as long as he could.

"As much help as you have been," said Jack with a small grin, "I do not know you very well. But I live down this way."

"Oh, right."

"Well, good night."

With that, the boy with the yellow raincoat sauntered down the street, the brightness of his coat glowing in the street lamps, feet silent on the pavement. Aster could not help but wonder who he was, this young man who stood out for more reasons than his odd clothing choices. But alas, there would be no way to find out, nor should he want to. They were never supposed to have known the others name, let alone know the other as a person. Now was the time where their paths ought to have split again, the fork that appeared when the first one was missed.

As Aster turned and strolled towards his home, work troubles began crowding his mind again, but in one corner remained Jack and in another was the name of the coffee shop he had disappeared into that morning.

This time, Aster chose to deviate from the clear path altogether and make a new trail, one that included the boy in the yellow raincoat for a little while longer.

***Hope everyone had a good week and all you Americans had a nice Thanksgiving.**

**Always- Ari**


	3. Bright and Different

It was a small house, two bedrooms, two and a half baths, one level, and perfect for a single man. The guest bedroom was white, dull, and only ever touched when the rare acquaintance would stop by and stay one beer too many. In the time Aster had lived there, he could count on one hand the amount of times that bedroom had been used. The kitchen was almost identical to the guest bedroom, save that the oven replaced the bed and the refrigerator served as a chilled chest of drawers. The kitchen was used only to heat up and store leftovers and was kept as cold as the white walls warranted. The living room was in slightly better shape, with pieces of art slapped on the walls and a television sat opposite the black couch. The room had a rather modern look to it and was where Aster spent most of his evenings, reading, doing paperwork, or falling asleep to the news.

Grabbing a frozen bag of expired peas, Aster threw himself onto the couch, flipping on the television as he did. The pounding just above his left eye was a painful reminder of his evening. He chastised himself, realizing just how out of practice he was. He would have to find time to hit the gym. There had been a time when he was considered a fierce opponent; he had come to rely on remaining nameless too much to survive the world.

"And the drought just will not break," said the weatherman. "Fred, however, caught some footage of a hopeful citizen though. Show us, Fred."

Aster shot into a more upright position, staring at Jack on the screen as he handed a fresh, snow white daisy to a homeless woman. He was laughing and talking to the women for a moment before saying farewell and moving on. The camera followed him as he bought a sandwich from a vender and then turned and gave it to the hungry looking man by the alley. His yellow raincoat made him easy to spot. He looked ridiculous amongst the sea of grey and black suits, clearly unaware he was being watched. Or maybe he was aware but he just didn't care.

"Keep on dreaming," said the weather man, laughing. "You'll be wearing that coat for quite some time."

"Thank you, Claude," said the anchor in his deep, manly voice as the cameras switched over to view him. "Poor little fellow is probably insane."

"Be nice, James," giggled his fellow anchor. "He's probably not insane; he's just some weirdo in a raincoat."

Harsh, televised laughter echoed out of the speakers on the side of the television, causing anger in Aster that he could not understand. Such an exchange between news castors was a nightly occurrence, yet this night it was different. They always showed images taken throughout the day, but tonight was not like any other night. Tonight, Aster knew the image. It was as if he was waking up from a long slumber. He began seeing the people on the news, not just their pixilated images.

The female reporter was middle aged and so caked with face paint (Aster never understood why they spent years telling children not to paint their faces but then allowed them to do it as adults under the name of make-up) that Aster wanted to take a chisel to it. Her dark roots were peeking out from the metallic blonde sheet of hair that should have gone grey years before. Her lips were too large, her nose too pointed. The man sitting next to her behind the stage desk was in not better shape. Flecks of white splattered his hair, his lips formed a natural sneer, and his voice was too forced. Aster wondered if they were even wearing pants behind that desk.

They had nothing on Jack.

Their words, so perfectly scripted and pronounced, had none of the feeling or integrity that Jack's words possessed. The reporters took footage of Jack being himself, talking to strangers that others avoided, giving people some light that had nothing to do with the sun, and spun him as insane and strange. Aster had known this boy for a few hours yet he knew he was more real than anyone on the screen.

Disgusted, Aster shut the television off; he had hated the news before, it had nothing to do with the fact that the news had made Jack look the fool.

Jack was not the reason he was awake after such a long time.

(break)

It had been a week to the day since Aster had met Jack. Life had gone on without much change, indeed, the only change was that now a corner of Aster's mind was entirely dedicated to the boy in the yellow rain coat. He was not his only thought, but every time something crossed his path that did not quite fit in, he would be reminded of Jack, laughing and standing out without effort. And that would go to the Jack corner, the corner that was quickly growing and becoming the brightest part of Aster's mind.

He noticed more and more as the week went on. People at work transformed from life like robots in designer suits to people with faces and names, homeless people on the street deserved pity and not to be invisible, and emotions that had lay dormant for so long began peaking their heads up and making themselves known. But it was not Jack's fault this was happening. Jack had no effect on Aster's life, not at all, at least, that's what he told himself.

After parking his car, Aster walked to the coffee shop several blocks away. He told himself that he was going to get a cup of green tea, but it was a transparent lie. He had always hated coffee and tea was sold at any number of shops near his building. He was going in hopes of seeing Jack. The shop, which looked cramped from the outside, was surprisingly roomy inside. Small tables with wooden chairs speckled the space, armchairs dotted the surroundings, and at the very back was the counter that held the magic substance-coffee. There, in the corner by the window, sitting where he could see everything, was Jack, today dressed in a blue hoodie with white faded embroidery that looked like frost patterns spiraling off his shoulders and up from the sleeves.

Aster quickly ordered a cup of tea and stepped off to the side to wait for his order to be filled. Jack was hard at work, pouring over a moderately sized stack of papers. His shaggy white hair was handing in his face, wisps of it escaping gravity to frame her head like a halo. His pen drifted to his lips thoughtfully. Looking up from his work, he glanced around the shop, his eyes locking on Aster, who was caught staring. His face lit up at the sight of him standing there and looking awkward.

"Your tea, sir," said the stout lady behind the counter with lipstick that strayed outside the natural lines of her lips.

"Thank you," said Aster, taking his tea but unable to tear his eyes from Jack.

Jack waved him over, scooping his pile of papers to the side of the table to allow the more upstanding citizen to set his tea down.

"Hello," said Jack, smiling as if Aster were the best thing in the world, when Aster was seated across from him. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," replied Aster stiffly.

"Really? Because you seem distracted."

Aster studied Jack as he would study a client, trying to figure out how his mind worked. Unlike the majority of people, when Jack asked how someone was, he cared about the response. He was not asking to be social. In fact, Jack did not strike Aster as a social person. He was, by far, the strangest person he had ever met.

"I'm fine."

"If you say so."

The conversation stalled as Jack looked out the window at the passing people, his orb like eyes taking in every detail. Aster continued to study this young man he barely knew who appeared to be so blissfully in his own world that it made no difference that people gave him disapproving looks or whispered comments as they passed if they bothered to notice him at all.

"Why do you dress like that?" Aster blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Why not?" asked Jack. "It is a nice day outside and I like blue. Why do you dress the way you do?"

"Because I am a lawyer and dress for my station. Are you telling me that your boss allows you to dress like this?"

"Yes sir," said Jack, a secret smile playing at his lips.

And there, that was the hint Aster needed to help him put the next piece of the puzzle that was Jack into place.

"You aren't from around here, are you?" he asked in triumph.

"Not originally, no. What gave it away?"

"You are too polite. You responded with 'yes sir', so I am guessing you are from the south?"

"Yes sir, but not the deep south, just more south than Burgess."

Aster nodded, happy to have figured it out. He was starting to understand this boy a bit more. If he just kept talking to him, then he would have him figured out in no time.

"And you, my dear Aster, are from Australia originally but moved here probably less than a decade ago and you hate your job but have not figured out that you hate it yet."

That statement shattered his ideas of figuring him out.

"How do you do that?" Aster demanded.

"Do what?"

"That! You just come out of left field, declaring things about people you don't know and being right."

"I fail to see what you are asking."

"How do you just know things?"

"I don't. I just…am a good guesser."

"No one is that good of a guesser."

"Well, I am."

It was apparent that he would get no more of an answer from the man stubbornly looking back at him, so he looked around, casting about for a new topic.

"What are you working on?" asked Aster, nodding to the stack of paper in front of Jack.

"Oh, just a story," said Jack, waving his hand in the air. "I like to write."

"Is that your job then?" said Aster with a look on his face that clearly stated that he did not approve.

"Is what my job?"

"Writing stories, is that your job?"

"Yes, it is. It's fun," said Jack, laughing.

"Is everything a joke to you?" snapped Aster.

"Funny things are."

A silence followed that was cold and uncomfortable to Aster. Jack looked at him steadily, his face unreadable, his eyes drowning Aster's clear green, and suddenly, Aster realized that he should be at his office, his respectable job office wearing his pressed suit and reading papers about real people and their real issues, not sitting in a coffee shop with a dreamer who wrote for a living.

With a mumbled goodbye, Aster rushed out, each step taking him farther from those haunting, mesmerizing eyes that made him so uncomfortable, the eyes that made him see how he was judging a boy he barely knew, eyes that made him want to get to know him more.


End file.
